When is a runner no longer a runner? When they no longer run. 30 years later…

I am not a runner. My body has declared war on itself and I’m held captive on my ship, waves of doubt crashing against the side, storms of serious uncertainty, and I’m huddled inside my body wondering “Am I old now? Is this where I no longer get to be me and start having to be old lady me?

Where last year I started thinking I was going to “fix it” this year, it’s now next year and it’s not fixed. Afraid of the pain, I am in limbo trying to decide who I am now and how I define myself now.

I assume this is the slippery slope of age. When you begin to fear your own body. Every twitch and tick, every ache and pain seem to be the harbinger of bad news to come. And if you haven’t been upkeeping yourself, visiting the primary Physician, exercising, or eating well, you can be even more terrified. You may be sure this was all preventable if only…

For me, I know it’s not a matter of my diet or exercising enough. It may be about exercising too much and probably genetics. I have all the specialists lined up, they’re just not helping fast enough. No one expects me to be 51 or in pain. They underestimate how far I’ve already come.

There are all sorts of crazy cool treatments now to fix all sorts of things. And I’m headed for a few of them. I just thought I’d have the procedures and the pain behind me already. So it takes as long as it takes. Expectations are tough not to have. And I start again.

If you enjoyed what you read, please subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagramto see my daily pictures, friend meor like my pageon Facebook. Or come find me on Twitteror Pinteresttoo. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

My everyday, nay, my every moment is full of my expectation thoughts. I have expectations of how my day will play out. Then, I base my feelings of how my day and my life is going on how I perceive it is going as compared to how I expected it would go and then I pass a judgement. The End.

But perceptions are still subjective. I have a nasty habit of judging my glass to be half empty. Same fill line as half full but it’s the way I am used to seeing it. I think this way, if anything blindsided me with bad news or disappointment, I won’t have far to fall. I guard against joy.

But if this is all a habitual equation, a standard pair of sunglasses I’m so used to donning, I no longer notice them, then that means there’s a chance to backpedal and find another way to seeing my life. Because I get the distinct feeling that my life is waaaayyyy better than I’m giving it credit for. The habit to guard against disaster and seeing it all as in need of fixing, is robbing me of my every day every moment high.

What if I am already living the life I always wanted? What if in this constant looking beyond to the future and then disregarding my now is robbing me of the one life I get to enjoy? Because I think that’s exactly what is going on.

I get to see my healthy children grow up every day. I get to create words and pictures as often as I choose. I have a supportive as heck husband and several really nice supportive communities. My healthcare is paid for and I have a new roof on my house. I’d say I have a lot to count my glass as half full. So here’s to taking my fear glasses back and getting the prescription and tint changed. I’ll settle for 20/40 and rose-tinted sunglasses.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagramto see my daily pictures, friend meor like my pageon Facebook. Or come find me on Twitteror Pinteresttoo. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

It’s a thing, this pattern of not enough, of body fix. I hate my bloated belly. I can’t lose the weight. Even when I did, it wasn’t enough. An addiction to self-hatred is what I say. The no compromise standards that keep us right on the other side of the fence of liking ourselves as who we are now. And I’m feeling a weird choked battle cry of “Enough” coming from deep inside.

For a very long time, I have not gauged my worth by my body. My distended or pregnant or redundant colon bloated belly is not what other people judge me as being worthy by. Except, I can not bear to wear half my wardrobe lest my bloated belly show. And the pieces I will possibly grab for just dwindled to a handful when I gained back my weight. I was so triumphant a year ago having lost the ten pounds. And then I found myself right back at the beginning again.

I thought, perhaps I need to sit and watch any crowd and count how many women have a belly. Or I need to peruse some Glamour magazines to quickly sicken myself with the disease of picture perfection in the media and then inspire my rebellion to wear belly shirts. Or maybe I need to sit in front of the mirror and make sure I tell myself about my worth as not being about my body. Any and all these methods could be invoked to remind me that I am loved and lovable wherever and however I am.

Bottom line is that this self-hatred and self-bullying which has me and many others wanting to always fix ourselves can never end well. As long as there’s something to “fix”, it implies brokenness. And I do not want to model this for my buxom red-headed daughter. She’ll have to fight it from the world as it is.

The fact is I’m mortified by the loss of collagen in my body more than anything. But mostly, I know I shouldn’t be having this conversation AGAIN. Haven’t I already learned this lesson? How to do our best and let go of the rest. Forgive our flesh.

I need all your good thoughts and helpful suggestions. And am always up for your stories.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagramto see my daily pictures, friend meor like my pageon Facebook. Or come find me on Twitteror Pinteresttoo. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

My everyday, nay, my every moment is full of my expectations. I anticipate how my day will play out. I base my feelings of how my day and my life is going on how I perceive it as compared to what I expected and then I pass a judgement on how it’s going. I’m not living the good life. The End.

I have a nasty habit of judging my glass to be half empty. Same fill line as half full but it’s the way I am used to seeing it. I think this way, if anything blindsides me with bad news or disappointment, I won’t have far to fall. I guard against joy.

But if this is all an habitual equation, a standard pair of sunglasses I’m so used to donning, I no longer notice them, then that means there’s a chance to back-peddle and find another way to seeing my life. Because I get the distinct feeling that my life is waaaayyyy better than I’m giving it credit for. The habit to guard against disaster and seeing it all as in need of fixing, is robbing me of my every day every moment high.

What if I am already living the life I always wanted? What if in this constant looking beyond to the future and then disregarding my now is robbing me of the one life I get to enjoy? Because I think that’s exactly what is going on.

I get to see my healthy children grow up every day. I get to create words and pictures as often as I choose. I have a supportive as heck husband and several really nice supportive communities. My healthcare is paid for and I have a new roof on my house. I’d say I have a lot to count my glass as half full. So here’s to taking my glasses back and getting the prescription and tint changed. I’ll settle for 20/40 and rose-tinted sunglasses.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagramto see my daily pictures, friend meor like my pageon Facebook. Or come find me on Twitteror Pinteresttoo. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

May weather in Maryland means “70 something degrees and listening to the birds chirping through open windows wide open” kinda weather. At least that’s my expectation. Although my window is open now and the birds are intermittently chirping between wind gusts, it feels like March. Or November. Oooh, I think I just had a craving for pumpkin pie. Or a warm sugar-free chai latte at least.

Earlier this month, we had a surprise spell of August-like temperatures in the 90’s. Again, not what we expected but then expectations are never realistic or advisable when it comes to weather …ever. Weather is only slightly more predictable than it was when we were children counting the seconds after the lightening until the thunder to see how far away the storm was. Yet there we all are in the line at grocery store expressing our disdain for Mother Nature today. Maybe it’s because we have nothing else to talk about. Maybe we think we are due special considerations from her for having a hard week. Or just that we haven’t figured out how to just be OK with what is in the moment.

This morning I got this flash that our expectations about Life are erroneously the same as those we have for the weather. There’s a pattern in which life is supposed to happen depending on the season. There’s the seasons of childhood, adulthood, love and marriage, parenthood, and retirement. These seasons come with their own expectations about how the days will transpire. You can sort of head for there but get caught up in how it should or shouldn’t look and then, “Quelle Surprise !”, it comes out looking completely different than you expected. Again, if you were just to avoid expectations at all costs with both the weather and your life, you could certainly save yourself a lot of grief. But then you wouldn’t be human.

So maybe we need to convince our inner toddlers that neither the weather nor life is truly within our control no matter how much we try. And that we’re better off focusing on the right here and how we can make this truly awesome despite the weather, despite the accidental nature of life. Conjure a mood in your head, create your smile to pass it on, and enjoy your gratitude at the end of the day for all the people you know and all the things you’ve done. And hold the prayer that you’ll wake up and get to do this all over again tomorrow. It’s all we’ve really got. And maybe some good star gazing in between life storms.

And If you enjoyed what you read, subscribe, via the subscription box in the sidebar, to my thrice weekly posts via your email box. And visit me on Instagramto see my daily pictures, friend meor like my pageon Facebook. Or come find me on Twitteror Pinteresttoo. I am always practicing Intentional In-touchness so chat at me please. I live for conversations.

My name is Shalagh Hogan, pronounced Shay-La. I'm the mother of a teen, a six year-old, and I turned 52 this year. This blog was born in 2011 and my hope and joy as a writer, an artist, and an uber-creative, is that by sharing my journey of self-discovery, others will gain inspiration and permission for their own journeys.

Newsletter

First Name

Email address:

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Interested in having my posts show up in your inbox? Pop your email address here and at 6:30am EST on Mon, Wed, and Fri, they are all yours to read at your leisure. Thank You So Much!